


Turned

by AberrantAngel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 1830s, 1920s, 1950s, 1990s, But that really makes no difference to understanding it, But there are minor relationships, Gen, M/M, New York, No Smut, Other, Other Magical Beings, Paris - Freeform, Technically in the Shadowhunters world, Vampires, current time, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AberrantAngel/pseuds/AberrantAngel
Summary: Montparnasse was a member of the Patron Minette, a group dedicated to killing all the monsters on the Earth. That is until he is turned into one of the monsters and forced to learn that not everything is what it may seem. Now stuck with an unwanted immortal life he has to figure out a reason to keep living.Abandoned as of July 28th 2019, but might pick it up again.





	Turned

**Author's Note:**

> If You Haven’t Read the Shadowhunter Books Here’s All You Need to Know:  
> Shadowhunter- Nephilim (part human, part angels, majority of them aren’t big downworlder fans)  
> Downworlder: any magical creature that is not a Nephilim  
> Parabatai- magically bonded best friend type thing for Shadowhunters  
> Shadow World- refers to everything in the magical world
> 
> Also, this is technically a prequel to my [Shadowhunter AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600582/chapters/36220215), but either one can be read without the other.

He just returned from a hunt so his white gloves were stained red. He peeled them off his pale, skin and placed them onto his table. The room was dark and lit by a single candle that dripped wax into a pile on the mantel. There was one strand of moonlight reaching out to caress the assassin who was scrubbing thick blood off his hands.

It was a successful night. He’d taken down a good eight vampires which would have to impress his father. The previous night he overheard his parents discussing his future. They wanted him to lead the Patron Minette, and the way they were talking made it sound like they wanted it soon. He couldn’t spare a moment. Every second he had to be tracking and every other he would have to be killing. He sighed exasperated, yet elegant, and sat in his rickety chair. He placed his top hat next to his gloves and unwound the rose from his waistcoat. 

His hair was ruffled and out of order which wouldn’t do well to present to his parents. It was futile, alas he ran his hands through it in an attempt to sort it out, but it might have made it worse. There was a cracked mirror in the corner, which he avoided using at all costs. He didn’t need to see the regrettable scars and blemishes that decorated his face. He was imperfect. 

It was his job to be the best. It was his job to do as his father, that sumptuous man, said. He had to rid the world of monsters. He was protecting everyone, keeping them safe from the things that lurked in the shadows. But he felt like a pawn blindly following the instructions from some gamemaster above. All his limbs were attached to the razor wires of life pulling him into ridiculous dances. Nothing he did was his own.

The night surrounding him was quiet and serene. Paris knew how to take a deep breath as the people fell asleep. He breathed with the city, waiting for some unfortunate someone to break his comprehension of the never ending cycle of silence. He didn’t have to wait very long.

“Montparnasse, my dear friend, I have just come from a nest and I must say I am just bursting with awe. It seems that you have taken the whole clan for yourself!” Claquesous had clambered into the room looking very messy and disheveled.

“Good to see you, Sous, but they ran. I did not get all of them and they will return,” Montparnasse smiled vaguely towards his parabatai.

“Whatever you say,” Claquesous accepted the answer, “Speaking of returning I hope you are aware that your parents are on their way to speak with you.”

“I have heard. Do you know what my mother and father want from us now?”

“Us? No, no, my dear Parnasse, just you. I am but a henchman in their ranks, you are their star.”

“You flatter me, although I have heard whispers of me being in command.”

“Oh, how wonderful! A fine leader for a fine organization,” Claquesous celebrated then grew serious, “You promise not to forget a little man such as I once you lead us?”

“Of course, what do you take me for?” Montparnasse got up to retrieve a new coat from his wardrobe. His parents would not be impressed by his dirty one now. He had to make his kills look effortless and clean. He had to be an example. 

“My apologies, Parnasse, I just am not sure sometimes…” Claquesous cast his gaze towards the floor.

Montparnasse sighed deciding to be kind for just a moment. He touched his chest where his parabatai mark was, “This should be proof in of itself, Sous. We are bonded and I would not choose just anyone to swear such a lofty oath with. We swore to protect one another and we shall. Never doubt that.”

“Oh, my friend, as silly as it may be it brings me peace to hear you say such things aloud. I shall not doubt you again.” Claquesous smiled brightly, “You should know that I also will honour this oath until my dying day and--”

Montparnasse shushed him and listened deeply to the night. There were footsteps outside his apartment. The front stoop of the building groaned under the visitors weight. They would need to climb the staircase to get to his room, so he had some time to get ready. 

“They have arrived, Sous,” Montparnasse shoved his bloody gloves into his dresser and hung his coat and hat on the front rack. “Light some more candles and make yourself as presentable as possible.”

Claquesous shuffled about the room organizing their belongings and lighting the room enough for company to navigate it. Montparnasse straightened his waistcoat and his sleeves. He adjusted the chairs around his table, although his parents were unlikely to be staying long enough to sit down.

The footsteps had made their way into the hall and with the spare seconds Claquesous took Montparnasse’s hand and wished him luck before gravitating towards the corner of the room. His parents had never been satisfied with his choice of parabatai. The creaking floorboards were now the ones just outside the door. There was a measured and precise knock on the wood.

He gave it a moment of waiting to open to ensure that they wouldn’t suspect he had been waiting for them. Once he opened the door his parents’ faces displayed smiles that looked the painted faces of porcelain dolls. They walked into the room on silent feet and glanced around the room.

“I see that you have not changed your furnishings since our last visit,” his mother was scrutinizing the fabric on the window shades. “It is a shame you have decided that our house was not enough for you, darling.”

“Hello mother, father,” he ignored his mom’s statement and nodded to them politely, “May I ask what brings you around this night?”

“No pleasantries, just the way I like it. Good boy-- no, dare I say man-- this one.” His father clapped him on the back and it took all his effort not to flinch. “We are here to discuss your future within the Patron Minette.”

“Oh, do tell what new task you have set for me,” Montparnasse acted inquisitive and curious. After years of living with such manipulative people he was conditioned to always be a step ahead and act three steps behind.

“We were hoping you would take on a leadership position.” His father leaned against the table and Montparnasse feigned surprise. 

“I do believe that I can do great things for the Patron Minette. What can I do to achieve this next promotion?” He didn’t need congratulations, all he needed was his new position and to be out of his parents control. 

“Us and the other officers have decided that you must hunt down the vampire clan leader and bring back his head for proof,” His father explained.

“Yes father, I will get to work straight away.” Montparnasse said elegantly and began to lead his parents out of the room.

“Before we go, a word alone Montparnasse.” His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hall, “That friend of yours, Clancy or whatever his name is, are you sure he is good for you? Just look at him. He stands around as if he is part of the furniture and you could do so much better.”

Montparnasse stiffened and coldly replied, “He is my parabatai. Goodnight mother.” He was affected by her words and slammed the weak door behind him as he entered his apartment.

“What was that about?” Claquesous was now sitting at the table with his hands folded neatly.

“Nothing of importance, dear Sous. Let us go to bed and tomorrow we will make a late breakfast. I am sure our friends will be coming around to leech off our meal.”  
***  
Montparnasse woke up to something that didn’t smell atrocious which was odd considering how degraded his apartment had become. Getting out of bed was never a struggle for him because his bed was so horribly uncomfortable. His feet were cold against the slightly damp wood floors as he entered the front room in his silky nightshirt to retrieve a much more acceptable outfit.

“Good morning, Parnasse,” Claquesous smiled from the table where he was cutting croissants in half and lightly spreading them with butter. “Get changed up if our friends are coming they won’t been keen on seeing you indecent.”

Montparnasse shuffled through the dresser looking for the most pressed pants he could find, “Did you go to a bakery to buy us food?”

“Yes, you see you didn’t seem to be waking up so I decided that it would be better to pick up a meal than attempt one on my own. It is truly lunch time, although I am not surprised you slept in so late. It was a long hunt for you last night.”

He grunted in response and brought his clothes back to the bedroom to change. Today’s outfit of choice was quite high end. It was quite clear he had to look professional if he was hunting a clan leading. He hand shiny black pants, a pristine white shift, a dark red waistcoat patterned with roses, a black redingote, a black cravat, and a top hat with a red ribbon. He felt powerful when he looked exemplary and he knew he did. He could not wait for his friends reaction to his clothes.

“What do you think, Sous?” He asked as he stepped out into the kitchen.

“Very nice! You know what you could do even better?” Claquesous got up from his chair and inspected the outfit further. “The new trend is corsets for a better waistline.”

“Yes, I have heard, but I have yet to find a chance to purchase one. I do believe it would encentuate my figure well.” Montparnasse knew that the current fashion called for cinched waists which was some of the most exciting news he had heard in awhile. He wasn’t sure where he would find a corset. There were plenty of boutiques in Paris, but ever since he moved in with Claquesous his only nice clothes were the ones he moved with. Money had become a bit of an issue.

“I know you too well and can see you are thinking of prices. But once you’re in charge you can buy all the corsets you want. I do not doubt they will lose their style any time soon!”

Montparnasse was less sure about the style remaining in trend. Men were so picky when it came to doing things that were ‘feminine’ and women were known for corsets. It would fade out unfortunately, maybe even before he got the chance to draw in his own waist and suffer through painstaking hours of corsetting. It would be worth it to look so good, though. 

A knock sounded against the door, this one much more lighthearted than the previous night’s. Claquesous opened it to welcome in Babet and Gueulemer. They discarded their hat on coats onto the rack and took their places at the table. 

“A big promotion for Parnasse! No better a cause for drinking before 2pm!” Gueulemer held up a bottle rum and laughed.

“We always drink before two!” Babet snatched the bottle away and opened it, “Sous, you must have glasses somewhere.”

Montparnasse bristled at the sight of the rum and grabbed himself a bottle of wine. As charming as his friends could be, they were not gentlemen in any sense. That’s why he lived with Claquesous, who knew the difference between silk and satin. 

“Oh, Parnasse you spoilsport! Don’t you roll your eyes at me. Come get a glass of the real stuff,” Babet cringed as he tipped back his glass. 

“No form of persuasion could bring me to drink suck a disgusting thing. Besides I have a job to do today.” Montparnasse poured himself a glass of his wine and took a step, “It’s better to stick to a drink I am accustomed to. This hunt has to go smoothly and perfectly. I can’t afford losses of judgement.”

“Keep talking about work and it will seem as though your parents were here!” Gueulemer munched on one of the croissants leaving crumbs on his shirt. Montparnasse glared at him.

“You are going to attract rats in here if you continue to eat in that manner!” Claquesous rushed to sweep some of the crumbs off the floor. 

“Well if your Montparnasse is our leader you two can live somewhere much better. Somewhere rats would not dare tread.” Babet teased.

“Very funny, Babet. Can we please talk about anything besides my future, as you requested before.” Montparnasse threw back the rest of his wine.

“Fine, let us discuss the women we met in the gardens yesterday!” Babet nudged Claquesous and Gueulemer, “You are deprived of joy to have not been there!”

On second thought talking about the Patron Minette sounded great. Claquesous, who knew precisely how Montparnasse felt on the subject of women, was stifling a laughter as he watched his unamused face. Unfortunately his other friends did not need to know such things and continued on about how lovely the women’s low necklines looked and how well the corsets shaped their bodies. Montparnasse was more envious of the women looked than interested in them. Apparently their lips were painted red and their cheeks were rosy. There was no reason to want any of that as a man, but he wanted it anyway. Unless he wanted to be murdered in the streets of course, which is something he would have rather avoided.

“I am going to head out now,” Montparnasse decided, grabbed a sword from his dresser, and started towards the door.

“Wait, Parnasse! You haven’t eaten anything. Please take a croissant, I don’t want you getting a headache because all you have had is wine.” Claquesous wrapped a pastry in a napkin and handed it to his parabatai. “Take care of yourself and come home tonight with the head of the beast, my dear.”

“I will see you then,” Montparnasse took the croissant and tucked it into his pocket hoping the napkin was a strong enough barrier to between the flaky bread and the fabric.

As soon as the door closed Montparnasse felt much more focused. The first order of business was to steal a map. There was a small shop that sold a myriad of odd thing. Montparnasse frequented the place looking for odd furniture or curtains to cut into waistcoats. It was a hobby to discover the dark secrets of each object. The owner had a bottomless supply of stories about the objects he sold, all rather unusual. Montparnasse’s dress was from the store, and previously owned by a man who had delusions of it coming to life to kill him in the night. The idea of such things intrigued him so he had to buy it.

The shopkeeper glanced up from his novel when Montparnasse walked in, but otherwise made no action on acknowledgement. They had come to understand each other well. He remembered a story about a man who was found dead outside an entrance to the catacombs with half finished maps of the tunnels. The maps were kept in a trunk near the back of the shop, making them quite easy to fold into his jacket.

He made his way back to the front of the store and took some time to browse items. As much as it gave a cover up to his visit he was also tempted by what look like a broken teapot. After a couple of moments of silently sulking over the price tag he was ready to leave the shop.

“If you are going to steal maps to a system of tunnels lined by disassembled dead people that you are not allowed to enter at least steal a lantern so you are not stuck in the dark.” The owner held out a lamp for Montparnasse to take, “Here is a match. Avoid getting lost in the underground maze. You have a long portion of life left to live.”

“I will try,” Montparnasse took the lamp and match trying to figure out how the shopkeeper knew he was stealing.

The closest entrance was in a tomb decorated with biblical scenes. Montparnasse picked the lock and entered a cold room with a staircase in the center. He cautiously stepped down into a room where he could no longer see without the lantern. He had to strike the match a couple of times before it lit up the room. He was surrounded by bones that were yellowing. There was a design made out of skulls near his head that was particularly fascinating. It seemed impossible he had never explored the tunnels before. 

He unfolded the map and decided to follow the path leading to a drawing of large room. If the vampires really did have a base in the catacombs they would need a throne room for their leader. The path he chose was scenic, meaning there were lots of creative uses of bones to make pictures in the rows of femurs. He turned the final corner to where the room should be. 

There was a very grand set of doors with unnecessarily huge handles blocking his way. He pressed his ear against the wood to listen for movement within in the room, but he didn’t hear anything. He opened the door very slowly in a successful attempt to avoid creaking and slipped inside the room, which was gorgeous. The ceiling was high and the theme of the room was dark and mysterious, just the way he liked it. There was a throne on the other side of the room marking it clearly as the perfect place to wait for the clan leader to show up. 

Montparnasse could not resist trying the throne out himself. He sat on the dark chair with stiff posture and rested his arms on the sides. That was what regality felt like. He was the ruler of his own life for a moment. The Patron Minette would never give him such pleasantries though. There would be no grand room with aesthetic themes for him. But he would be regarded as a greater man which was enough to push him out of his parents’ grasp. Then he heard voices in the hall. He scrambled behind the large back on the throne and held his breath.

When the door opened the voices ceased. There were no footsteps so it was impossible to tell just where the vampires had gone until one was sitting upon the throne. The clan leader had brought himself directly to his death. Montparnasse silently readied his sword and shifted position so he could stand up and slice the vampire’s head of quickly. He took a breath as he pounced and swung his blade towards the creature’s neck.

“Not so fast, Nephilim.” The leader had knocked away the sword and was towering in front of Montparnasse. “You think you can enter my territory and play by your old rules do you not? Well, little thing, that is wrong. I have heard about you from my fledgelings. A true murderer that had killed countless of my children. You are a fool to come here. Now, kneel.” Montparnasse stood indignantly, “Look at you. So arrogant yet so helpless. All that confusion mixing around in your eyes. You do not even know if you want to kill my people, yet you do it anyway. Poor choice because now you are going to pay. You are going to be an example to your puny friends of what happens when you mess with us.”

Montparnasse tried to run and retrieve his sword, but the leader caught his wrist and twisted his shoulder out of place. The vampire slapped him over and over and kicked his legs from under him and stomped on his back. The strikes continued for an indeterminable amount of time. Montparnasse had kept his face stiff as he tried to struggle out the vampire’s grip. He kept accepting the blows until his face was swollen in every part of it. His ears were ringing and there was an intense throbbing in his brain keeping him from finishing thoughts. He could not feel the damage in his body, and he could not move his limbs.

“Just kill me,” He whispered it like a final request once the punches had stopped.

“I was never planning on killing you,” The vampire said, heaving Montparnasse’s limp puppet form onto the throne. “I have much better plans for you.” The last thing he saw before darkness were fangs moving towards his neck and the last thing he felt was blood dribbling out of his veins.

***

It was dark when he woke up and he banged his head on a hard surface when he tried to sit up. He felt dazed and his limbs couldn’t reach out very far. Montparnasse squinted his eyes trying to remember what had happened previous to finding himself in darkness. He was in the catacombs and the clan leader was on his way in. And then… then he was beaten to near death.

Montparnasse flinched internally at the thought, but he didn’t feel any of the pain anymore. How long had it been since he blacked out? Was he dead? If death was a prison of eternal darkness and confinement that wasn’t very surprising. He could get used to it. That was until a hole sprung in the ceiling and dirt filtered into his face. He spit it back up and pounded upwards. The clan leader had buried him alive. He must have wanted revenge on the Nephilim and was pulling some ironic plot. Vampires had to buried to live and now Montparnasse had to suffer the burying alive part. 

The lid of what must be his coffin was hard to push up under layers of dirt. He had to claw his way through all the layers and definitely felt a few worms which against his fingers. His clothes were going to be stained to an irreversible level. The vampire would pay for that. When his hands finally breached the surface Montparnasse pulled his head up, looked up to the moon, and took a deep breath of air...

Which he had not been doing before. 

He was being turned. 

Montparnasse tried to reburry himself as fast as he could. He didn’t want this, he couldn’t be this. Death was a far better option than becoming a bloodthirsty animal.

A cold hand grabbed his wrist before he could trap himself under ground again, “No, fledgeling, you cannot run from this.” The clan leader dragged his full body onto the earth. There was a set of wine bottles on the grass that smelled so delicious. “I see where you gaze leads you, my child, and do not worry, it is all for you.”

Every warning bell in his head was going off, but he was hungry. So very hungry. He wanted to find a man on the street and rip his throat out to sip fresh blood from a newly punctured vein. And that thought horrified him. But the urge to guzzle the substance of the wine bottles was not something he could fight. His limbs pulled him towards the feast without his permission and he snatched off the corks with his teeth. He tried to lick the excess blood from each bottle once they were empty but his tongue couldn’t surpass the bottle neck, so he broke them against a gravestone and licked the shards clean. His mouth was cut up and dripping shimmering red everywhere once he had finished, but the hunger was still lurking waiting for a victim to appear.

“That is all for now fledgeling. You will have to learn to control yourself like the rest of us,” his sire stood over him, triumphant. 

Montparnasse cowered against a gravestone, his hands shaking uncontrollably, his voice quavered for the first time since he was a child, “Why did you do this to me?”

“So that you can understand. You see your people seek us out. We do not cause trouble in our city, so there is no use for Nephilim to slaughter our kind. But your Patron Minette do it anyway. We have been living off criminal blood for centuries now, but is that enough for you? It never will be enough for you. I am teaching you a lesson, young child of the night.” The elder vampire held out his hand for Montparnasse. “You can stay a vagabond and end up killing innocents or stay with your clan and we can teach you.”

“No! Never! I am not one of you creatures!” Montparnasse swatted the hand away and began to run. His feet moved too quickly upon the uneven cobblestones. He didn’t want his infected blood giving him demonic powers. He wanted to be at home eating croissants with Claquesous and drinking fine wines. So he ran home.

The building seemed to stand taller than ever and the stairs seemed neverending as he climbed to his apartment. He threw open to door to see Claquesous covering his face and crying in the corner. He rushed over and peeled his friend’s hands from his eyes.

“Dear, Sous, are you okay,” He asked as a preface to the real issue.

“Parnasse! Oh, by the angel! Our bond! I felt it snap and I thought the worst, my dear, I thought you had died! But you are here now,” Claquesous wrapped his arms around Montparnasse bringing his neck close to a nose now powered by an inextinguishable starvation. Montparnasse felt fangs protruding from his mouth thirsty for more blood. When Claquesous sat back he saw them and screamed.

“You are not my friend!” Claquesous became frantic. He scrambled for anything to use as weapon against the vampire, “How dare you take his body and parade around as if you are my Montparnasse!”

“No, Sous, it is still me! We can fix this, there must be a way to reverse it.” Montparnasse tried to reach out to his friend, but what only met with a blade to the arm.

“Your tricks will not work on me you monster!” Claquesous stabbed Montparnasse through the shoulder, “You cannot live in his form. You cannot live with his face and his voice! You have to die!”

The vampire had blood running from his eyes as he pulled the blade from his opposite arm and threw his friend against the wall. He ran again, this time from the rickety house and towards the catacombs entrance he used before. There was no need to pick the lock with his uncanny strength and he stormed through the bones to the great doors and threw himself into the room.

“I see you have changed your mind.” The clan leader sat smugly on top of his throne.

“Please kill me so that my friend will not have to,” he begged.

“That was not an option. Are you staying with us or fending for yourself?” His sire got up from his chair and grabbed Montparnasse by the throat. 

“I will stay,” Montparnasse caved, not wanting to suffer the leader’s wrath again, and he was released from the tight grip.

“My second in command will take care of you, but until she returns from England you will be kept in a cell. You are not to be trusted by the children of the night yet.” The leader turned to a set of vampires standing on either side of the throne. “Take him out of my sight. And do not treat his injuries, let him suffer his wounds”

Montparnasse was grabbed by arms and hauled through the twisting catacombs, his gash leaving a trail of blood behind him. He was flung into the back wall of a cell and shut into darkness once again, left alone to feel the bleeding sensation in his shoulder and the raw force of hunger coursing through his bones. He took a very crushed and crumbled croissant from his pocket and took a bite in an attempt to satisfy his starvation, but it only sufficed to make him gag and throw it back up.

He had become a monster.


End file.
